


This Is Love. This Is Family.

by Howwwever



Category: Das Medaillon der Engel, Original Work
Genre: But I Love Them, Character Death, Emotional Hurt, Everyone Needs A Hug, Found Family, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, Major Character Injury, Original Fiction, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, So please love them too, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Urban Fantasy, Why Did I Write This?, You dont know these characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:08:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29760798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Howwwever/pseuds/Howwwever
Summary: “They did fall in love.”, John continued, “In fact, they even shared a true love’s kiss. But the princess was, well. A princess. And she was still beautiful, and smart, and charming. And soon enough it became obvious that the boy she had met was just that. A young boy, haunted by ugly thoughts and grim words. And he was not as witty or nice as the princess and love was not enough to glue them together.”...Sometimes, I write scenes about the original characters of the novel series I am publishing. Yes, the novel series is in German, but I enjoy writing in English too. So there I am, sitting around with a bunch of scenes about my characters that won't fit into the novels.So for now, I shall collect them here.





	This Is Love. This Is Family.

**Author's Note:**

> As you might have read in the summary, this is a place where I collect random scenes I write about the original characters of my novel series.  
> Fair warning, there might be some light spoilers in here, but I will try to keep it as spoiler-free as possible and after all, none of you will actually read the novel series anyway.  
> And I will always tell you which books the certain chapter might spoiler.  
> For chapter one: Light spoilers for the first novel.
> 
> Have fun!

**Johnathan telling a Goodnight-Story**

_There were these moments, memories Johnathan had treasured and locked up inside of his mind carefully, that he was sure no one else possessed._

_Memories about Louise, for example, of when she had been a child. Moments she most definitely did not remember. But he would never forget._

It was a wednesday evening and John was sitting at his desk, his nose buried in old texts on magical symbols and rituals used by mages in ancient greece. It was not a particularly interesting topic, but Johnathan had had a long day and had just needed something to occupy his mind with that did not come as liquid in expensive glass bottles.  
He was considering whether he should just close his book and fall asleep on the couch, when he heard a knock against the doorframe and looked up. His eyes went wide with surprise.

“Louise?”  
It was in fact Louise, lurking out from behind the door. Her black curls were held back in a high bun and she wore a white blouse and a rosered skirt with a flower print, falling down to her knees that his father had gotten her and that made her look like a catholic school girl.  
“What the… what on earth are you doing here?”  
Only now, John noticed that Lou was shivering slightly and as she came out from her spot behind the door completely, she looked kind of lost. It didn’t sit right with John. She started to explain, while he got up and kneeled down in front of her: “I… I had a nightmare.”  
Johnathan shook his head in disbelief.  
He took off his coat and wrapped her in it, rubbing the fabric over her arms to stop her from freezing. It was fucking Januarary. Snow was laying outside, as high as Lous thighs probably.  
“And your first solution was to get dressed and walk here? All across the city by yourself, in the dark? In the middle of winter?”  
Were her lips actually turning blue, or was it just his imagination?  
John tried to calm his voice.  
“Couldn’t you have knocked on my… on Frank’s door?”  
The small child in front of him shook her head. She didn’t offer any further explanation on why exactly she had started this expedition or why she had taken extra time to do her hair before doing so. Johnathan sighed.  
“Fine.”, he gave in, “I will drive you back.”  
But as he stood up to pull Louise, wrapped in his black coat like a burrito, along with him to the car to bring her back to his father’s house, she protested: “No! I want to stay here.” and she wiggled her hand out of his grib to walk up to his couch and plump down onto it.  
“You can’t sleep here.”, John insisted, rubbing his temples. This child would be the death of him.  
Lou just shrugged.  
“That’s okay. I won’t be able to go back to sleep anyway.”

Well, damn.  
Johnathan made a mental note to go shopping the next day, apparently with children in his life he now had to keep a stock of hot chocolate ready even in his office, and sat down next to his daughter. Defeated by an eight year old.  
She cuddled up next to him and Johnathan fought the urge to back away. He leaned back and pinched the bridge of his nose. He tried not to think of all the things that could have happened to an eight year old girl that walked through London in the middle of the night. He was going to have to put up a freaking alarm system around his father’s house if he wanted these children to survive.  
Lou especially was not doing her best to make his job easy.

And yet, she was so little now.  
She would grow up, getting herself into more trouble than he could help her out of someday and then what? It would ruin all of his plans.  
Louise didn’t seem to share any of his worried thoughts. She yawned and pushed herself even closer to him.

“Can you tell me a story?”  
John choked on his own breath and broke into a coughing fit. He managed a: “What?” and Lou replied: “A story. After a nightmare, when someone cannot fall back asleep, you are supposed to tell them a story.”  
Naturally. She explained it in such a tone, Johnathan felt like his daughter was scolding him on how to raise a child. Like this was a number one rule in life and he should feel stupid for not knowing it.  
“I am not good at coming up with stories.”  
Lou groaned. Was she annoyed with him?  
What was wrong with this child? Were eight year olds always this sassy or was he just blessed with the worst one?  
“Alright, alright.”, he silently cursed, “Give me a minute.”

Johnathan tried to think of something, taking a moment to realise how utterly absurd this whole situation was. Him, sitting on a sofa with his daughter, who by any means didn’t even know she _was_ his daughter, trying to think of a goodnight-story because she had asked, no, she had demanded that he would tell her one.  
By God, he really hated children. But maybe this one was not so bad.  
At least she knew what she wanted and he could respect that.  
That didn’t mean that it was any easier to come up with a story. John was good at many things and had harbored many talents in the past decade, but coming up with child-friendly stories was not one of them. He tried to think back to any story his father might have told him when he had been little, but he came up blank. Then he tried to think further back to his mother, but his memory was getting too fuzzy there to remember such details.

Louise waited for a good two minutes, before she cried out: “It’s not that hard.”  
Then, without giving John the time to stop her, she jumped off of the couch and hopped over to his desk. Johnathan jumped up and followed her, grabbing her by the arm, as she opened one of the drawers.  
“Hey.”, he growled, “That’s private.”  
He pulled her backwards, but her small fingers managed to hold onto one of the pieces of paper that he had stored in his desk drawer. Her curious eyes flew over it. John snatched it out of her hands.  
He looked down on it, to see what Louise had grabbed. His heart skipped a beat.  
“Who’s in that picture?”

No. No, no, no.  
Johnathan wished she would have pulled anything else from his drawer.  
He slipped the picture into the pocket of his trousers and muttered something like: “Nevermind that picture.”  
Without accepting any further protest, he picked Lou up and carried her out, setting her down on the passenger seat of his car.  
When they started driving, John was staring out of the windshield with icy terror.   
Louise either didn’t pick up on his change in mood, or she didn’t care. All she said was: “Can you tell me the story of the picture? Pleeeeaaasssse?”  
Johnathan stayed silent. He needed to get that child back to his father’s house and think. Sleep would not come to him this night. But maybe he could get some more research done. There had to be something less dull out there than greek mages and their symbolism.

“Are you mad at me?”  
Ah, fuck. John unclenched his jaw.  
“No. I’m not mad at you.”

She didn’t believe him. He could tell from the way she hid her hands under the warm fabric of his black coat and looked away from him, out of the window. Her lips trembled and John feared it was not the cold getting to her this time.  
Great. John had royally fucked up and it wasn’t even Louise's fault. There was only one thing he could do, to make up for it.  
“Once upon a time, there was a princess.”

He dared a glance over to Lou. She was still not looking at him.  
“She was the most beautiful girl in the whole kingdom. She had golden hair and eyes, the colour of the ocean. And she was clever and charming too. Everyone in the whole kingdom loved her dearly.”  
Louise smiled. Still looking out of the window, but still. It was something, right?  
Johnathan focussed on the dark streets before him.  
“One day, she took a walk through the favourite alleys of her favourite city, when she met a young boy--”  
“And she fell in love with him and they shared a true love's kiss, like in the picture, and lived happily ever after?”

John swallowed down a sudden chunk of sorrow in his chest. He managed a careful smile, still looking out to the street, but he could feel Lou’s eyes glued onto him.  
He asked: “Wouldn’t that make for a short and boring story?”  
Lou answered: “Some goodnight-stories are short and boring. So what happened really to the princess and the young boy?”  
They were driving through the inner city now. Bright lights were coming from the buildings and the illuminated windows of the countless shops. Not too far from here was his apartment. And a little ways up that hill…  
“They did fall in love.”, John continued, “In fact, they even shared a true love’s kiss. But the princess was, well. A princess. And she was still beautiful, and smart, and charming. And soon enough it became obvious that the boy she had met was just that. A young boy, haunted by ugly thoughts and grim words. And he was not as witty or nice as the princess and love was not enough to glue them together.”

It got quiet for a little while.  
Johnathan started to worry that he had overdone it with the tragedy, when Lou complained: “That’s it? That is not a good story. Where is the heartbreak and the jealous sister who cuts off her toes?”  
“Didn’t you say that goodnight-stories were boring?”  
He could almost hear how she rolled her eyes.  
“I said _some_ of them were boring. In a good story, usually someone dies.”  
“Fine, fine.”, Johnathan agreed.  
“So, the princess and the young boy fell in love. And things were good for a while. She would amaze him with her beauty and her golden heart and he would… He would show her how meaningful life could be, outside of her pretty castle. And they looked out for each other and taught each other many things. Until one night, the boy got a letter from an old friend. Or at least so he thought, but as his fingers touched the paper he realised it was cursed.”  
John looked over to Lou. She was curling into a little ball on the passenger seat and with heavy sleep in her voice she whispered: “Now, that’s a good story.”  
“A storm came over the castle, with loud thunder and dark clouds. The boy, he tried to get rid of the storm. He saw how much pain it inflicted on the princess to not be able to see the sun anymore, so he was trying everything he could to bring the sun back to the sky. He went to get help from one of the knights. He found a loyal knight, with a silver sword and the boy pleaded for the knight’s help in defeating the cursed storm. So the knight climbed up to the highest tower of the castle and raised his sword. A lightning struck.”

Johnathan stopped the car. They had arrived in front of his father’s house and one glance to the side told him that Louise had fallen fast asleep.  
John sighed deeply and then fished the photograph out of his pocket. It was an old picture, showing traces of being picked up and looked at for years and years.  
A beautiful princess and a young haunted boy, kissing in front of a weeping willow on a mild spring day. Johnathan put the photograph in the glove department and then he carried his sleeping daughter into the house, up the stairs and laid her into her canopy bed.  
As he gently unwrapped her from his coat and put the blanket over her, she slowly blinked her bright brown eyes open.  
“What happened to the princess?”, she softly asked and Johnatan sat down on the edge of her bed.  
“She still lives in the castle.”, he said.  
“Without her true love?”

John looked around the dark room. The other four were sleeping undisturbed, small bodies under the sheets, dreaming of other places and other conversations. Other stories.  
“There is no such thing as true love, Lou. It’s just a story.”  
She rolled onto her side and her eyes shut close again.  
“You’re wrong.”, she mumbled under her breath.  
“True love is real. You’re wrong.”

Johnathan waited for another minute, making sure Louise had actually fallen back asleep and then he got up and hurried out of the house.  
He did not look at the photograph again, during the drive back to his office.  
It was just a story. A boring good-night story.

Not more than that.


End file.
